


I woke up from the daydream

by Duchess_of_Strumpetness



Series: DRARRY: fanfiction and fanart prompts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Drarry, Lovers, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 13:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_of_Strumpetness/pseuds/Duchess_of_Strumpetness
Summary: Writing prompt from the DRARRY : fanfiction and fanart facebook group.Sending thanks to ArielSakura for the awesome beta job, thanks hunny





	I woke up from the daydream

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/41529282@N02/41861689984/in/dateposted-public/)   
> 

I woke up  
from the daydream  
of my twenties  
in a cold sweat,  
anxious for  
all the lives  
I hadn't lived

I wake screaming; the sound ripped from my lungs, bursting out of my memories and echoing around the room. The foul stench of sweat that clings to my body, sticky under my clothes and the oppressive weight of the bedclothes as I throw them off. 

I sit on the edge of the bed, my bare feet cold against the floorboards, my heart thumping as I try to calm down. I shut my eyes, but that only brings to mind painful memories. All the deaths I was responsible for, snatches of ghostly images float across my conscious. Unruly hair, vivid green eyes, a blackened hand and roman numerals inked in pale flesh. A camera held in a child's hands and a purple scarf set in caramel curls. An echo of a young man only just in his prime, and red hair no more a match. Amber and the brightest pink, together now, forevermore. 

So much death on my head, debts I cannot hope to repay, my hands forever stained in red. I squeeze my eyes shut, however it is no use. I can feel hot, bitter tears break free and they land with heavy, wet drips onto my hands that are twisting themselves together in my lap, uncertain of what they should do. 

Once more I am a boy, locked beneath the stairs, too frightened to make a noise in case the monsters came to call. 

I know now, all too well, the monsters are real, and they are more frightening, far more loathsome than any boy's mind can bear. The sound of Voldemort's voice echoed through my memories, his delighted cackle at my death the only thing I could hear, apart from my ragged breathing, and I could no longer hold back my sobs of pain that wracked my body. 

I am in danger of toppling off the bed when strong, wand calloused hands grab my arms, and tug me backwards. Muscled arms, lithe but strong, encircle me tightly, to wrap around me. Held tight into a warm, safe embrace and suddenly the dam breaks, heartbreaking tears drench your t-shirt, but your soothing voice never ceases in its ability to calm me down. You keep telling me we’re safe, he’s dead, you love me, repeatedly, until the tears stop and I take a shaky breath, not able or not willing, to let go of you.

"I have you, you are safe, he is gone and I love you," you murmur, rocking me like you would a child. I nod, not sure my voice would even work right now. Your kiss on my forehead feels like salvation and I drift back to sleep, no nightmares this time, just safe wrapped in the arms of the man I love.


End file.
